User blog comment:Bartholomew Bilberry Bowstring/The First of Many/@comment-32303-20160426040820/@comment-26024035-20160509011019

Extending a paw, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, his pawpad hovering over the flawless flat of the sword... and then lowered his paw enough to touch it, and he stroked the blade quickly. His breath came out slowly, emotional with awe and wonder. "It... it's beautiful, Mal..." A frown flickered on Shelran's lips, and he pulled the paw away. "I... I don't know 'ow we're... goin' t' be able t' keep it safe, though, Mal..." The big otter whispered, hopeless, quiet, his eyes on the blade. "We... we might not... even surv..." He squeezed his eyes shut, and began to cry softly into the tree's darkness, trying to hold the tears back.